


Pleased and Proud

by Once_More_With_Feeling



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-13 06:49:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9111280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Once_More_With_Feeling/pseuds/Once_More_With_Feeling
Summary: Mrs. Hughes helped Thomas to keep his place at Downton after "The Kiss," and looked out for him for years after. These scenes take place during Season 3, episodes 8 and 9.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write a piece about Thomas and Mrs. Hughes for a while, because I've always admired how she cares for him. This goes back a ways, to Series 3, with a missing scene from episode 8, after Mrs. Hughes finds Thomas outside in the rain, upset at being let go without a reference. The story has a lot to do with Thomas' relationship with Jimmy, but mainly focuses on Thomas and Mrs. Hughes. The title comes from antonyms for 'shock(ed)' and 'disgust(ed).'

“Shock and disgust?” she asked. What a thing to say. If what he was about to tell her was anywhere near what she thought, then the last thing she would be was shocked. And if she was disgusted at all it was only by the fact that one of their own was outside in the pouring rain, thinking he was without a friend in the world to talk to. She couldn’t have that.

 

“I think I have to hear it now,” she said. “Come on.” And she put her arm around him and led him inside. She was only mildly surprised by how easy it was, how quickly he let her guide him like a little lamb. It occurred to her briefly that this was probably just what Thomas had needed for months, maybe even years.

 

They made their way back inside, and down the hall toward her sitting room, and she kept her arm around him all the time. Even when they crossed paths with Daisy she didn’t let go of him, but said to the assistant cook, as though it were a daily occurrence, “Thomas and I will take tea in my sitting room, please.”

 

The young woman bobbed her head and said softly, “Of course, Mrs. Hughes,” then turned and all but ran back to the kitchen. Daisy and Thomas both looked anywhere but at each other during this brief interaction, and Mrs. Hughes carried on as if dragging sniffling rain-soaked valets back into the warmth of the house were part of her job description.

 

Once inside her sitting room, she shut the door behind them. Thomas stood in the middle of the room and looked as though he hadn’t a clue what to do with himself. Well. She would have to help him with that, too.

 

“Let’s start by getting you out of that coat,” she said, and grasped his collar from behind so that he could shrug out of the wet garment. She draped it over a chair nearest the fire, so it had a chance of drying, and placed her hand on his shoulder, ready to guide him to sit down. She noticed though, that his jacket was wet, too. “My goodness,” she said. “You’re soaked through.” She tutted and helped him out of his jacket as well.

 

Once he was seated she briefly considered pulling off his shoes and socks, but thought better of it. Thomas was rather prickly, and there were probably limits to how much care and kindness he could accept in one evening, regardless of how much he might need them.  

 

Instead she pulled her lap blanket from a shelf, unfolded it, and wrapped it around his shoulders. Once she had done so, she found herself reluctant to let go of him, and remained there, holding the ends of the blanket together at his chest. He seemed to take advantage of where she stood, and suddenly let out a gasping sob, and leaned forward to rest his forehead on her stomach.

 

“My, my,” she murmured, and moved one hand from the blanket and placed it ever so carefully on the back of his head. Maybe it was worse than she had thought. She tried to imagine what could possibly be so terrible, what could upset Thomas to the point of seeking comfort in another person. “Shh,” was all she said, as she moved her fingers carefully through his hair, and let him soak her dress with his tears.

 

In the end, it was Daisy that pulled them apart. She knocked softly on the door and pushed it open without waiting for an answer, though she looked as though she regretted it when she saw them. Thomas and Mrs. Hughes both straightened up, and the housekeeper merely reached for the tea tray. Daisy looked relieved that she needn’t come any further into the room, and bobbed her head again before making to turn and leave. As she did, though, she stopped, and looked at Thomas, who was very busy looking at the floor. “I’m sorry, Thomas—Mr. Barrow,” she said quickly and quietly. “For whatever it is.” Then she turned and left, closing the door behind her.

 

Mrs. Hughes placed the tray on the table next to Thomas and poured him a cup. She stirred milk into his tea, and handed it to him. He took it in his right hand, still holding onto the blanket with his left. “Thank you,” he said softly. He took a sip, then set the cup back on the table.

 

She had planned to sit in the chair on the other side of the table, but suddenly felt that this conversation called for closer proximity. She dragged the chair over to Thomas, and placed it in front of him. She sat down and took his right hand in both of hers, warming his fingers.

 

“Now,” she said softly but firmly, “What’s this all about?”


	2. Chapter 2

He didn’t lift his eyes from the floor, but took a deep breath, nearly ready to speak. After a moment, he said, “I’ve done something terribly stupid.”

 

“Alright,” she said, waiting to hear if what he had done was in fact stupid. He looked up at her briefly, his turn to be surprised.

 

When she didn’t say anything further he looked down again and continued. “I… the thing is, I…” Another breath. “I fancy Jimmy.” He cringed, clearly waiting for the angry words that would prove the shock and disgust he had predicted.

 

“I thought so,” she said calmly.

 

He looked up again. “You did?” he asked, nearly ready to begin crying again. She couldn’t tell if he was more horrified that she knew he was attracted to men in general, or that it had been obvious that he fancied Jimmy in particular.

 

She shrugged. “He’s very handsome, isn’t he?”

 

“Yes, he—” Thomas caught himself and stopped before this line of conversation could continue. He busied himself with looking at the floor again. “Anyway,” he continued. “I was given the impression that he felt the same way. I was wrong.”

 

Ah. Now they were getting somewhere. At this point in his life, it had to take more than a crush on a young man to trouble Thomas this much.

 

“How did you find out you were wrong?” she asked.

 

Now he began to cry again. “I kissed him!” he blurted out. “I went to his room, and I was just going to talk to him, honest, but he was asleep, and I… I kissed him.” His shoulders slouched in defeat, he let his tears fall onto both of their hands, which were still clasped in his lap.

 

She sat forward ever so slightly in her chair, and didn’t let go of his hand. “Now, now,” she said. “If that’s all it is—”

 

“But it’s not all!” he interrupted. “Alfred saw it! And now Jimmy’s told Mr. Carson that if I’m let go with a good reference, he’ll go to the police! And he has every right to do it! I’m ruined, Mrs. Hughes! My options are destitution or prison!”

 

Now she sat back in her chair. “Those are not your only options,” she said, anger rising in her voice. “I will not have your life ruined by that silly young thing over a silly little kiss.” She paused, and checked her anger. “It was only a kiss, Thomas?” she asked.

 

“Yes!” he said, incredulous. “What did you think, I’d—”

 

“I didn’t think anything,” she assured him before he could finish. “I just need to be sure.”  


“Everyone else gets to kiss someone,” he grumbled.

 

She sighed, and couldn’t help but feel that he was partly right. No one should be kissing anyone else in their sleep, but if Thomas didn’t have to hide whom he wanted to kiss in the first place, he probably wouldn’t be sneaking into other people’s bedrooms in the middle of the night.

 

“I know it feels like that,” she said. “It’s not fair. But you shouldn’t have done that when he was sleeping. You probably scared him, regardless of what anyone may have told you he felt about you.” Mrs. Hughes was sure she didn’t have to wonder whom it was that had led Thomas to believe something like this. Everyone downstairs knew he and Miss O’Brien had fallen out, and she had known it was only a matter of time before they turned their tricks on each other.

 

“I know,” he said pitifully. “I didn’t mean to scare him. I just… I don’t know. It doesn’t matter now. I have to be out of the house in two days, and I’ve nowhere to go.” He shook his head. “My life’s ruined.”

 

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” she answered.

“What?” he asked, looking her in the eye for the first time.

 

“I will speak to Mr. Carson, and we will find a way around this. As it is I’m sure Mr. Carson doesn’t take kindly to being blackmailed by that silly little flirt.”

 

“He’s not silly,” Thomas said, and she smiled before she could stop herself. There were times she might have believed a person who said that Thomas Barrow had no feelings at all, but this certainly was not one of them. She had to admit she felt proud of him in that moment, defending the object of his affection, even as Jimmy sought to ruin him. Thomas was not known for being sweet, but he certainly had a loyal heart. 

 

“Well,” she answered him. “Whether he is or not, I will be speaking to Mr. Carson, tonight.” She finally let go of his hand then, but not before giving him an affectionate pat. “And I think it’s time you went up to bed.”

 

He surprised her yet again by nodding and standing to go. She wondered briefly as she stood also, when was the last time anyone had told Thomas Barrow to go to bed. He began to pull the blanket from his own shoulders, but she stopped him, and held it in place again. “You keep that for tonight,” she whispered. “And stay warm.”

 

He nodded once again, and opened the door. He turned to face her in the threshold, and she was struck suddenly by how tall he was; their conversation that night had made him seem so small and in need of protecting.

 

“Thank you, Mrs. Hughes,” he said, wiping his eyes with the corners of the blanket. “I didn’t think anyone cared whether my life was ruined or not.”

 

“Well I care,” she said firmly. Then her tone softened again. “Now go on up. You’ve had a trying day.”

 

He nodded and left then, holding her blanket tightly about his shoulders.


	3. Chapter 3

He wasn’t particularly worried about being seen wearing a blanket in the stairwell by any of the other servants; it was only nine o’clock, and they all had more work to do before going up. He was jobless and nearly homeless, though, so he had nothing to do. And Mrs. Hughes was right. He had had a terribly trying day, and his eyes burned from fatigue and crying. He might as well go to bed.

 

Only when he reached his room did he pull her blanket from his shoulders, and drop it onto his bed. Oddly enough, though, he kept stealing glances at it as he washed his face and changed into his pajamas. She had let him keep it for the night, and told him to stay warm. Mrs. Hughes wanted him to be warm. What a glorious and unexpected thought.

 

He did use the blanket to stay warm that night, but not by covering himself with it. After he lifted his covers and climbed into bed, he gathered the blanket into a ball and held it to his chest. Normally he liked to sleep on his back, but tonight he lay curled on his side, and held her gift in both of his hands, sniffing it every few minutes. It smelled just like her: of soap, and tea, and… keys.

 

He remained certain as he drifted to sleep that he would be homeless within a day or two, so his last thought that night was that he should enjoy comforts while they were available. He slept warmer that night than he had in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is short, but I felt like this little bit needed to stand on its own. More this week! Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading and commenting. I appreciate it so much!


	4. Chapter 4

As it turned out, Mrs. Hughes’ plan to speak with Mr. Carson did help, despite Thomas being sure it would not. Either that, or it was Mr. Bates putting Miss O’Brien in her place, or His Lordship’s defense of him to the police. He even heard later that Lord Grantham had told the police that Alfred was just drunk the night of “The Incident,” and didn’t know what he was seeing. As if Alfred had ever been drunk.

 

At any rate, Thomas was allowed to stay, and promoted to under-butler at that. And he would have been grateful—knew he should have been, anyway. He had never in all of his memory experienced so many people rallying round him and protecting his life and livelihood. He was amazed by them, really, though he didn’t show it. And that was because being allowed to stay on meant staying and being hated by Jimmy.

 

Months after The Incident, Jimmy just couldn’t seem to let go his anger. He snapped at Thomas whenever the under-butler spoke to him, and refused to join any group conversation or activity Thomas was a part of. If he did look in Thomas’ direction, it was only with an icy glare. Thomas hated to admit it to himself, but he understood. After so many months, it wasn’t that Jimmy still hated him, necessarily; it was that Jimmy now felt he had to spend the rest of his life proving to everyone that he was not “that way,” not like Thomas. It must have taken a terrific amount of energy. There were times Thomas felt like screaming at him, “Alright, we get it! You’re a big, giant, proper ladies’ man!” But he never did, and not just because it would not have helped. He could never have screamed at Jimmy.

 

The months wore on like this, and one evening, nearly a year after Thomas had sneaked into Jimmy’s room on that fateful night, Jimmy was a bit late coming down for the servants’ dinner. When he entered the servants’ hall, he stopped short, as he noticed that the only chair left was next to Thomas. He stood still in the doorway, and made no move to enter the room.

 

“James?” Mr. Carson asked. “Would you mind coming in and joining us, so we can begin our dinner?”

 

Jimmy squared his shoulders and lifted his chin defiantly. “But there’s nowhere for me to sit, Mr. Carson.”

 

It seemed all the other servants came to understand what he meant each in their own time. Unfortunately, Thomas was among the last to realize Jimmy’s meaning, and by the time he understood, everyone was staring silently at the under-butler.

 

Thomas looked down at his empty plate, and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “It seems I’m not very hungry this evening. Will you excuse me?” he whispered as he got up and left the room. “Now there’s plenty of room for you,” he said to Jimmy as he passed him.

 

There was silence in the hall as Thomas left. Just as he made his way toward the back door, Thomas heard Alfred of all people break it by asking, “Why do you always have to ruin everything?”

 

Once he reached the courtyard, he pulled his cigarettes from his jacket pocket and lit one with trembling hands. He thought of sitting down, but his heart was hammering in his chest and he was full of nervous energy. He took a long drag on his cigarette and closed his eyes when he heard the crunch of gravel behind him. Someone had followed him outside. He cursed himself for being unable to stop hoping it was Jimmy, come to apologize.

 

It wasn’t Jimmy, of course, but Thomas was surprised when he turned around to see Anna standing a few feet from him. He turned away from her, ashamed at his disappointment.

 

“I came to see you’re alright,” Anna said.

 

“Well, as you can see, I’m perfectly fine,” Thomas answered. It came out sounding angrier than he wished. Why did he always have to sound so nasty?

 

She seemed to ignore his anger, or at least understand it. “You don’t look fine. And that was a terrible thing for Jimmy to do, especially in front of everyone like that. I’m so sorry.”

 

“Well,” Thomas said, his voice softer. “I’m used to it by now, and you all should be, too.”

 

She took another step toward him. “No, we shouldn’t,” she said.

 

He looked at her and gave her a sad smile. He noted then that she had put on her coat before coming to find him. If that meant she planned to stay for a while, he didn’t mind.

 

They stood in companionable silence for a moment, watching his cigarette smoke float upward into the twilight. Then she spoke.

 

“Do you know what Mrs. Hughes calls you?”

 

He snorted. He hadn’t expected this.

 

“I’m sure she calls me a great many things, and I doubt hearing about it will make me feel much better.”

 

“It might, if you’d just listen,” she answered, beginning to sound sharp.

 

Now he was curious. And it wasn’t as though he could feel much worse. “Alright, then,” he said. “What does Mrs. Hughes call me?”

 

She took a deep breath, and turned slightly to face him. “She calls you her brave boy,” she said.

 

He had been about to take another drag from his cigarette, but let his hand fall to his side. “She what?” he asked.

 

“Not just any brave boy, but hers. Or ours. ‘That’s our brave boy,’ she says, whenever she talks about you. She has since the war, but it’s more than that.”

 

“More than what?” he asked, now completely taken in by what she was saying.

 

“More than going to the front, and being wounded. I think… I think she means… all that you’re up against. Everything that makes life a little bit harder for you than most, and that includes the way Jimmy treats you. She knows you don’t deserve it, and she admires the way you get up every day and keep trying. You are brave. Braver than most,” she finished.

 

He merely nodded, and looked at the ground. If Anna had looked closely, she would have seen tears in his eyes. Maybe she didn’t see them, but she seemed to sense that he needed some privacy after hearing something so personal.

 

“Well,” she said. “I’ll go back inside, and ask Mrs. Patmore to keep your dinner warm. I’m sure you’ll be hungry later.”

 

He nodded again as she turned and left, and smiled to himself once she was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

It was certainly lucky that the fair in Thirsk coincided with the family’s trip to the Highlands. A few of the servants would have to travel with the family, of course, but most of them would remain at home, and going to the fair would be a treat. They would never convince Mr. Carson to join them, but that probably meant they would all feel free to actually enjoy themselves. Mrs. Hughes found herself looking forward to it quite as much as all the young ones.

 

The day of the fair arrived, and Mr. Branson offered to drive them all in the wagonette, which meant they needn’t worry about buses or the train. They could all go together, which made it easier for Mrs. Hughes to keep an eye on everyone, which unfortunately included Mrs. Patmore. She was rather taken with that grocer, Mr. Tufton, as of late, and Mrs. Hughes had a bad feeling about him.

 

She had been so busy following the cook and the grocer at a distance that she hadn’t noticed Thomas and Jimmy were nowhere to be found. Not until Jimmy came running for the doctor, anyway. The boy was clearly drunk, as he wasn’t so much running as he was staggering, pushing people out of his way as he shouted.

 

“Doctor! Doctor, you’ve got to come now! It’s Thomas, please!”

 

Her first thought was that Jimmy had hurt him. She knew the two might row with words, but if their fighting came to blows, she was sure Thomas could never bring himself to hurt Jimmy, however much bigger or stronger he was.

 

She followed the doctor and Mrs. Crawley, who followed Jimmy, to a foot bridge a short distance from the fair grounds. The commotion caught the attention of Mr. Branson, Edna, and Alfred, as well, and soon all of them were rushing to see what had happened.

 

When they arrived at the scene, they saw Dr. Clarkson help Thomas from where he lay on the ground to a seated position, leaning up against the bricks of the bridge. The doctor dabbed at one of the many cuts on Thomas’ face while the under-butler tried to catch his breath.

 

“Is there any chance of apprehending these men?” Mrs. Crawley asked.

 

“Not really,” Alfred said.

 

“Is anything broken?” Mrs. Hughes asked, as Dr. Clarkson pressed gently on Thomas’ rib cage, checking for fractures.

 

“I don’t think so,” the doctor said.

 

Thus their day out at the fair ended, as Mrs. Crawley ordered the other servants to get Thomas home and into bed as soon as possible.

 

“I’ll help him,” Alfred said, as he pulled Thomas to a standing position. “Lean on me,” he offered gently, as Thomas was scarcely able to walk on his own. Mr. Branson went for the wagonette, and soon their entire party was climbing aboard. Mrs. Patmore climbed in first, with Mrs. Hughes behind her. Thomas was hoisted up next, and sat near the housekeeper, while still dabbing at his face with the small handkerchief Dr. Clarkson had given him.

 

As Daisy, Ivy, Edna, and Alfred climbed inside and sat on the bench opposite them, Mrs. Hughes looked over at Thomas. She rolled her eyes.

 

“For God’s sake, Thomas, don’t you think you’d better have a lie down?”

 

He sniffed, and dabbed at the blood that oozed from a cut on his cheek. “What, here?” he asked, as casually as possible.

 

She rolled her eyes again. “Yes, here,” she said, somewhat testily. “And now.”

 

She had meant for him to lie down on the wagonette’s long bench, but she had not quite expected the manner in which he did it. At her suggestion, he nodded, and promptly laid himself down with his head in her lap. She found immediately that she didn’t mind, though, and took the handkerchief from his hand and began to dab at his wounds herself.

 

The only person in the party who seemed to mind at all was Jimmy, who climbed inside just as the engine started, and looked guiltily at the floor. Just as they were about to move, Alfred rose from his seat, though he was unable to bring himself to his full height inside the wagonette, and removed his jacket. In his slouched position, he moved nearer to Thomas, and covered him with the jacket, then sat down again.

 

“Thank you, Alfred,” Thomas said softly, unable to hide his surprise.

 

“Just trying to make you more comfortable if I can, Mr. Barrow,” Alfred said, and looked somewhat smug, as Daisy and Ivy exchanged blushing glances with each other, both impressed with Alfred’s chivalry. Jimmy scowled.

 

Mrs. Hughes watched Jimmy pout, and was certain then that though this fight had much to do with Jimmy, he had not been the one to hurt Thomas. These injuries had been intended for Jimmy, and Thomas had saved the younger man from them, by taking them on himself. Mrs. Hughes wondered for a moment if she had ever been prouder of anyone in her whole life.

 

“That’s our brave boy,” she said softly to him, as she tended his wounds, and looked down on him with pride. “You’ve done so well, Thomas,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more impressed with two black eyes and a split lip than I am today.”

  
It seemed an odd moment for laughter, but laugh she did, as she was so pleased with him. This made Thomas laugh, too, which was not easy given the state of his face.

 

“Ow,” he said, as he tried to smile, then “Ow,” again, as the fact that he couldn’t laugh made him laugh.

 

And there they sat, the entire ride home, giggling to themselves over Thomas’ small but profound victory that day. Her smile did not fade as they arrived back at the abbey, and she saw him inside and up the stairs. She helped him out of his suit and into bed, and used the contents of her medicine box—much more effective than the doctor’s handkerchief—to wipe the blood from his handsome face. With the tips of her fingers she brushed ointment onto the worst of the cuts, and found herself hoping they would heal without much scarring.

 

At first glance it would not have seemed to anyone that Thomas had the upper hand at the end of the day. He did, after all, have a sore rib cage and more gashes to his face than she could count; not to mention a boring week of bed rest ahead of him. But his scrapes would heal, and when they did, Thomas—and all the other servants, Jimmy included—would not easily forget his show of bravery and compassion. Mrs. Hughes had no doubt as to who was the victor in the year-long struggle the two men had been caught in.

 

And there was something particularly sweet in the fact that it had been Thomas to teach all of them this lesson, Mrs. Hughes thought to herself as she settled him into his bed and closed up her medicine box. Not only had the man many had considered heartless shown them all that love was stronger than hate; he had proven that he was more than capable—and more than deserving—of such love.

 

“Goodnight, my brave boy,” she said, as she carefully kissed an unbruised spot on his forehead. “And well done.” She turned out the light, and left the room, to let him rest.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I figured since I've never written Jimmy before, I might as well wrap this up with a chapter (mostly) from his POV. It involves a very particular scene between him and Thomas from S3E9. I actually love that scene, but there is one thing about it that bothers me a bit, so I changed it a little. I hope you all enjoy. Thank you so much to all of you who have been reading and commenting!

The next morning Jimmy was particularly quiet at breakfast. He nibbled some toast, but a dull sense of guilt had filled his stomach, and he was unable to take in much more than that, and a few sips of tea.

 

As soon as breakfast was finished, Mr. Carson informed Jimmy that he would be responsible for polishing every piece of silver the Crawleys had ever owned, and before luncheon. Normally Jimmy would have squawked, or at least demanded to know why Alfred was not expected to help, but today he accepted his punishment without question.

 

“Yes, Mr. Carson,” he whispered, without looking up, and missed the meaningful glance Mrs. Hughes shared with the butler. Perhaps Mr. Carson had not intended to punish him, but Jimmy thought himself deserving of a penance for his behavior the day before. And the week before. And for the last year.

 

Alfred had at least helped to bring everything in from the pantry, and piled it on the enormous table in the servants’ hall, filling nearly all the space available. Jimmy now sat alone with the silver, and poured more energy into scrubbing a lone spoon than he had put into any of his work in the last month. He tried to brush and polish away what he had done, but to no avail. Slowly his hands came to a stop.

 

He sighed, and rubbed a hand over his eyes. Mr. Bates’ words echoed in his mind. _Why are you being such a big baby about it?_ Crikey. For the last twelve months he had tried to prove his manhood by mistreating and insulting a man who had unflinchingly defended him from being robbed and beaten. And what had he proven? Only that Mr. Bates was right. While he had wasted the last year pouting, he hadn’t noticed that no one else was really on his side any more. In fact, now he thought of it, everyone else seemed so… over it.

 

Which may have meant it was long past time for Jimmy to get over it, too.

 

He needed to go and see Thomas. He knew if he didn’t finish the silver Mr. Carson would have his head. But he needed to do it. And he needed to do it before Mrs. Hughes told him to.

 

He put the spoon down on the table, rose from his chair, and walked toward the stairs.

 

***

 

The housekeeper only needed to wonder for a second or two what had happened. She walked into the servants’ hall and found it deserted, though there was a monstrous amount of unpolished silver covering the table. If Jimmy wasn’t here, she was fairly sure she knew where he had gone.

 

She sighed, and shook her head. It was about time. She headed out of the hall and walked toward the kitchen. She could at least make them some tea.

 

***

 

Jimmy paused outside Thomas’ door, and wiped his sweaty palms on the front of his trousers. He knocked softly, then opened the door without waiting for an answer.

 

Thomas sat on his bed, in his pajamas, reading a newspaper. It struck Jimmy briefly that he had never seen Thomas’ bare feet before. They looked just like anyone else’s feet.

 

Once Thomas appeared to have gotten past his initial surprise that Jimmy would voluntarily come anywhere near him, Jimmy started with the lame excuse that he had come up to see that there wasn’t too much harm done. Thomas, fairly enough, reminded him that in fact, plenty of harm had been done, and gestured to his beaten and bruised face.

 

Jimmy tried again. This time he told Thomas he felt badly, and that he shouldn’t have run off. Thomas disagreed. If Jimmy hadn’t run off, what was he bloody doing it for? Also fair enough.

 

Alright. One more try.

 

“Were you following me?”

 

He was. Jimmy was sure he knew why.

 

“Why?”

 

Thomas only scowled a little. “You know _why_.”

 

Now was the time to be brave. Brave like Thomas. Jimmy pulled up a chair.

 

***

 

The tea was ready. Mrs. Patmore helped her to arrange it on a tray, with no questions asked. She even offered half of a fresh loaf of white bread, and butter and jam. Mrs. Hughes accepted it, and loaded up the tray. She was sure the boys would be hungry. Thomas needed extra treats, to help him heal, and she knew Jimmy had barely touched his breakfast.

 

Carefully she picked up the tray and headed upstairs. As she climbed upward, she thought of what she would need to do to keep Mr. Carson from having a stroke over all that unfinished silver. Lord knew she’d managed worse. And it seemed more important that she do her part to end the great war that had waged downstairs for the last year.

 

***

 

Even with all the bruises, Jimmy could see the apprehension in Thomas’ face when he said it. The fear of rejection. “I’d like it if we could be friends.”

 

Friends. Right. Jimmy was ashamed to admit this hadn’t actually occurred to him before now. Of course he could be Thomas’ friend. He smiled, and tried to hide the shame he felt at making Thomas ask.

 

“Right you are, Mr. Barrow,” he said. “If that’s all it is, I think I could manage that.” There he was, making light of it again. The smile on Thomas’ face made him feel like his chair was much too far away. And the fact that Thomas was thanking him made him feel like a prize idiot.

 

Brave. Be brave.

 

He rose from the chair, and carefully sat down on Thomas’ bed next to him. He drew a deep breath, and took Thomas’ right hand in his own. It was a handshake. But… more.

 

“I need to say more than that I’m sorry for what happened yesterday,” he said. “I’m so sorry for the way I’ve treated you, for the last year. I’m a right sorry, selfish prig. I’d be lucky to have you for a friend, and I should be the one thanking you, for all you’ve done.”

 

Thomas looked down, but held tightly to Jimmy’s hand. “Alright, Jimmy. Whatever you want.”

 

Mrs. Hughes appeared in the doorway then, with a tray full of tea and jam and bread. “I thought you both might be hungry,” she said casually, and carefully set everything down on the side table next to Thomas’ bed.

 

Thomas began to pull away as Mrs. Hughes approached, but Jimmy wouldn’t let him. This was his chance. He squared his shoulders, smiled at Thomas, and didn’t let go of his hand. If he was going to be Thomas’ friend, he would do it with honesty, and let everyone see. He would be brave. And maybe someday, Mrs. Hughes would be proud of him, too.


End file.
